


The Four Times Charlotte Should Have Kissed Becky Lynch (And The One Time She Did)

by lifeisbliss



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Useless Lesbians
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-30 18:26:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14502891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifeisbliss/pseuds/lifeisbliss
Summary: Charlotte Flair swore she'd never make working relationships personal, that she'd look after her heart, that she'd try her best not to do anything stupid.. Until she meets a girl who makes her feel like she never has to try at all.





	The Four Times Charlotte Should Have Kissed Becky Lynch (And The One Time She Did)

  
Charlotte’s dad had always told her that travelling was easier with a partner, that it broke up the monotony of cross-state drives in sticky old vans, that having somebody to vent to wasn’t an ideal but a necessity, that at the very least it prolonged the shelf life of your limited sanity to talk gibberish to another human being rather than to yourself. It wasn’t that Charlotte didn’t believe him, or that she was trying to be anti-social by consistently riding solo.. it had more to do with the fact that finding somebody to fill her passenger seat was a lot more difficult than she’d initially anticipated.

She’d been warned, time and time again, by family, coaches and critics alike that breaking into the industry wasn’t easy, that the training and scheduling was relentless and the powers that be were harsh and that patience was as important as technical ability. She knew that she was facing into a lifetime of hiding her eye-rolls when people claimed her last name got her where she was, or when people attributed her success to her father rather than to her unwavering discipline and work ethic. She thrived on proving herself to her doubters. She thrived on the knowledge that even if everybody didn’t like her, she’d make sure she was good enough that everybody would eventually respect her. But _God_ , did she loathe the backstage politics, the sniggers she’d hear at the performance centre every time she put a foot wrong, the chatter and laughter dimming to an uncomfortable silence every week when she walked into the locker room.

  
At first she’d been sure it was paranoia, that she was being ridiculous, too sensitive, perhaps too guarded, so she set herself about joining in conversations (that everybody knew she couldn’t relate to), laughing at jokes (that really weren’t funny at all), offering encouragement when it was sought and punctuating interactions with kisses on cheeks and promises of evening cocktails, and sure, after twelve months in the company she’d reached a point where she could claim basic social competence without being entirely fake, but she still couldn’t convince anybody that she was a safe enough driver or fun enough road partner to travel with long-term.

That was, until Becky. She’d never forget their first encounter – the way that the infectious Dubliner had bounded into the near empty locker room on the afternoon of her first day at the performance centre, tapped Charlotte on the back as she was packing up and introduced herself with “ _please_ can I stick my phone into your locker until I get the key for my own? Thankyouthankyouthankyou”, before ditching her gym bag underneath a bench and darting for the ring to join in drilling with the other newbies. Charlotte, blown away by her energy, her boldness, and truthfully her beauty, stood blinking and shaking her head at her locker for a good thirty seconds before she dissolved into helpless giggles and heard them echoed across the room. “Sasha, who _was_ that?” “Fuck if I know, but she’s.. that was really something.” “You can say that again.”

Charlotte sighed and made a beeline for the ring before common sense overrode the temptation to give the stranger a piece of her mind, opting instead to sit with her back against the wall, legs crossed, hoodie pulled over her knees, eyes trained on the mat twenty feet in front of her. There was no denying that this girl had talent; her offensive catalogue was varied and flowed beautifully, she worked safely, took direction and her stamina was unquestionable – Charlotte was pretty sure she was winded after _watching_ her for half an hour. That was when Charlotte decided she liked her

Now, a fortnight later, they’d ceased sharing a locker (instead opting for becoming locker-room neighbours) and, much to Charlotte’s delight, started sharing her Land Rover instead. Rebecca. Becky. “Becks”. She’d learned a lot of important things since the day she’d resigned herself to being a little more than “fashionably” late for dinner with her family to babysit a stranger’s Samsung, namely that  
  
1\. Becky was actually a very polite, _very_ apologetic person (she’d said sorry for being rude six times on their first twenty minute car ride to her apartment) who felt like she was just as prone to being “too much” socially as Charlotte felt she was prone to not being enough, and somehow that was a recipe for a fast friendship.  
  
2\. She liked Irish accents.  
  
3\. She really, _really_ liked Becky.

 

“Hey, dreamer, are we on the same planet?” Charlotte reluctantly pulled herself out of her daydream and, blinking, turned to face Becky who was sitting in the passenger seat, elbow on the dash, eyebrows raised, gnawing on her (oh so kissable) lips. “Sorry woman, it’s not my fault you took forever. I’m taking it it’s a no?” “Good guessing.” “It’s okay, it looks like a dump anyways.” “I’d risk a few bedbugs at a service station motel if it meant getting..”, Becky paused to turn on her phone’s backlight, “more than five hours of sleep.” Late nights in strange cities were becoming somewhat of a bad habit for the pair, and while Charlotte could compromise on losing a few hours of shuteye if it meant quality sleep in an actual bed, she knew Becky couldn’t handle another long day of media and workouts in 100+ degree heat topped with a live show on less than four hours of rest.   
“Char?” “Yeah chick?” “Sorry for whinging, please don’t think I’m ungrateful, I just.. I’m really tired tonight, so if I’ve been snappy it’s really not personal.” “Hey, I know that.” “Pinkie promise that when we get called up and have accommodation arranged for us you’ll wallop me if you hear me complain about the rooms we wind up in?” Charlotte wrapped her finger around Becky’s, smiling at the contrast between her tanned hands and Becky’s milky ones. “Pinkie promise. We really should have paid attention to Dusty when he warned us about sleeping in alleys and dining on..” Charlotte was cut off by Becky’s delirious laughter, “Charlotte, he said that at our worst we’d be dining on pork and beans and I can barely feckin’ afford Pot Noodles!” Charlotte couldn’t help but smile at the way Becky’s nose crinkled and her shoulders shook when she laughed and felt blessed that she’d not only found somebody to share in the long drives and frustrations of life on the road with her, but somebody who could lighten her mood just by existing and God, she needed to stop letting her mind get carried away like this before she got hurt.   
“Do you want to just snooze here tonight? We should be safe enough, there’s plenty of staff around and it’ll be bright in like, what, three hours, four max?” Charlotte swore her mouth functioned independently of her brain when she was around Becky, but truthfully she couldn’t argue any longer with the exhaustion written all over her friend’s face, and how could she say no when she had the power to make her happy? “Shit, you mean it?” “Take your travel pillow and get into the back seat before I can change my mind.” Becky leaned forward, placing her lips dangerously close to the blonde’s neck. “I owe you one.”   
  
Five minutes later, after much sighing and contortion in the front seat, Charlotte had given in to Becky’s demands that she come stretch out in the back with her. That was the first time Charlotte Flair had to stop herself from kissing her, not on the lips or anything altogether _stupid_ , just physical affection taken perhaps a step too far had Charlotte not trained herself out of risking her heart, had Charlotte not caught herself in time. You see, when the girl you’ve been blown away by since you first met, the girl who gave up everything to pursue a dream (and Lord, you wish you had half her resilience), the girl who makes you laugh ‘til your sides hurt and sing until your voice cracks, who considers you her _best friend_ after scarcely two weeks of car trips and takeaway salads.. when she falls asleep beside you wearing the hoodie you were wearing on the day you met, with her head lolling onto your shoulder and her soft snores and the rain on the roof of your jeep being the only thing to break the dead silence that comes with 3am gas station stop overs? It’s very hard to resist pecking her forehead and telling her you love her.

**Author's Note:**

> This fluff fest came about while I was listening to The Sound of Reverie by The Maine. Think about it. (Comments, critique and kudos are always welcomed!!!)


End file.
